


boop the snoot

by Bootstrap_Paradox



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, idk what this is even, the idea is pretty stupid but they are cute so why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 21:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bootstrap_Paradox/pseuds/Bootstrap_Paradox
Summary: A few months into being Crowley's boyfriend, and Aziraphale is starting to feel like he can't quite keep up with the whole "dating" thing. He wants to do something nice for him. Problem is, even after thousands of years of knowing the demon, he doesn't actually know him all that well. As he begins to runs out of inspiration for what to do, Aziraphale stumbles upon a book about keeping exotic pets - and, suddenly, he has the most brilliant idea...





	boop the snoot

**Author's Note:**

> The text in italic is supposed to work as narration/voiceover. I haven't decided whether it's mine or God's... so take your pick, I guess.

Every day, somewhere in between breakfast and noon, arrives a strange and mysterious time. A time when the sun is still climbing the sky, yet it the feels like the morning is over; when the streets seem busy and deserted at once; when work is just starting to pick up the pace for some people, and others are already exhausted by their duties. That time is precisely when Aziraphale and Crowley meet – in _their_ park, on _their_ bench, on Wednesdays, Saturdays, and additional dates schedules strictly in advance. And no cancellations without prior notice.

As per usual, Aziraphale was the one to arrive first. He sat down on the bench and glanced left and right absent-mindedly, as if trying to assert whether the setting was sufficiently romantic. He was rather new to this dating thing after all. It’s been more than two months since both of them decided there was no point in trying (and failing) to conceal their true feelings from each other. Conveniently, it happened on the same day, about three days after the Apocalypse that didn’t happen. A smile appeared on Aziraphale’s face as his mind brought forward the memories. Sometimes, life seemed too perfect to be real.

Meanwhile, Crowley was being late, as was his custom.

_If you were to ask him about it, the demon would say that he never plans to be late – it just sort of happens. The mechanisms of it were an enigma to him. One time, knowing that Crowley is consistently late by about ten minutes, the angel turned up for their date with a precisely measured ten-minute delay. He then proceeded to wait for Crowley… for more or less ten minutes. Both came to the conclusion that, somehow, Crowley’s demonic nature was to blame for this._

Today, Crowley was late by exactly eleven minutes and thirty-five seconds, as Aziraphale had counted on his watch. He saw him from afar, walking down the narrow path like it was a runway, hands occupied with something dark and rectangular. Aziraphale moved left on the bench and brushed the other side from dust and dried leaves. Then he glanced up and tutted, before swiping away a cloud with a swift gesture of his hand. The cloud was obstructing the sunlight, and he couldn’t care less what the head office thought about his excessive use of miracles.

-Good morning, angel. – Crowley greeted, sitting down next to him and setting the box down on the bench.

He looked left and right, checking for unwanted attention, before leaning in for a kiss. He always did it, even now, and thought that Aziraphale didn’t notice. He did.

-Hello, Crowley. – The angel smiled. – Delightful weather today.

-Please don’t do small talk on me. – Crowley wrinkled his nose, as if he had just spotted something icky. – I’ve invented small talk. I don’t need it. And you’re my boyfriend, not my secretary.

A shade of pink blushed Aziraphale’s cheeks at the sound of the word “boyfriend”. He thought Crowley didn’t notice. He did.

-I bring you gifts. – Crowley continued, grabbing the box and handing it to Aziraphale.

He placed it on his lap and opened it slowly, peeking inside like a child at Christmas.

-Red velvet cake. – Crowley elaborated, savoring the delighted expression on Aziraphale’s face. – From that posh new bakery in Kensington. Usually, you have to order two weeks in advance, but for me, they made an exception.

-That is most kind of you. – Aziraphale muttered, and found a silver fork inside the box.

-Oh, and also.

Crowley reached behind the bench and produced a bouquet of flowers tied together with a blue ribbon.

-Crowley. – Aziraphale smiled, blushing again, as if he had never gotten flowers from the demon. – You’re too good for me.

-I’m the opposite of good. – Crowley retorted, winking through his shades. And he meant it.

Somewhere on the other side of the park, one of the gardeners had just walked past an elaborate flower composition that was now missing quite a few specimens. And she had definitely noticed.

Aziraphale gently put the flowers down, then proceeded to taste the cake.

-Magnificent. – He commented. – Humans, they absolutely perfected the skill of making food ingredients into works of art. And I can’t figure out how they do it! I’ve tried baking once, you know… - Aziraphale began.

-Yes, I do recall. – The side of Crowley’s mouth went up in a delighted smirk.

-…the most stressful experience of my life. – He finished, ignoring the remark. – But who knows, maybe I’ll learn it in the future. We have plenty of it now. Future.

For a while, Aziraphale enjoyed his cake, and Crowley enjoyed sitting next to him in comfortable silence. Without that one annoying cloud, the sun was free to shine, and the two needed nothing else except each other’s company.

-Magnificent. – Aziraphale repeated upon finishing the last piece of the cake. – Perhaps we should visit that place together. I do wonder about their take on the butter pecan pie.

He glanced at Crowley. The demon didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic about it.

-I can get coffee. – He shrugged, noticing the touch of disappointment on Aziraphale’s face.

-Or we could do something else. – The angel said, placing his palm on Crowley’s knee. – I’ve heard that the London Symphony Orchestra are playing Pink Floyd’s hits next weekend. And, well, I am not quite sure, but I seem to recall you telling me something about Pink Floyd in 1977. So, what do you say?

-Huh? – Was Crowley’s response. – Sorry. I wasn’t listening. You put a hand on my knee and my brain immediately went to standby.

-Right. – Aziraphale nodded and removed his hand.

-That’s not what I meant. – Crowley replied, grabbing his palm and intertwining their fingers.

-What do you want to do then? – Aziraphale asked. – It’s just, you do all these things for me, and I’m always the one who suggests dates, and you never get to choose.

-I don’t care. – He asserted, and brought their intertwined hands to his lips to place a kiss on top of Aziraphale’s palm. – As long as you’re there, I’m in.

That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Aziraphale, but he didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t the first time he had reflected on the certain disparity in their relationship. Crowley did _everything_ for him. Every time Aziraphale was starting to feel like he could no longer be surprised by those gestures of affection, Crowley would outdo himself again. At the same time, the angel couldn’t help but notice that most things he enjoyed did not matter much to Crowley. He didn’t like delicious food, or books, or concerts, or most public events in general. And although he never said so, never even suggested that anything was wrong, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel guilty for not keeping up with his game. Perhaps they just about tied when it came to the bedroom… but in everything (and everywhere) else, Crowley was most certainly on top.

They spent the rest of their date on the bench, talking about nonsense, and reminiscing on their shared past (they did have a lot of it). The topic of future dates never came up again.

-Next time at your place then? – Crowley asked, already knowing the answer.

-My place. – The angel confirmed.

-Okay. Fine. Yeah. – Crowley mumbled, unwilling to bring the date to a close with “goodbye”.

Luckily, he didn’t have to, as Aziraphale pulled him in for a kiss, which lasted for longer than your average human being could hold their breath for. The status of a supernatural being did have its perks.

Before parting ways at the gates, they walked the paths hand and hand, almost certain that, even if their respective head offices were to take notice, they would probably be too scared to mention anything.

*

Late Thursday afternoon was spent by Aziraphale in a feeble attempt to finally sort out the “miscellaneous” section of his bookshop. He had tried to do it previously – eleven times in the last century or so – and every time he somehow ended up with more books than he would start with. Humans were very good at sorting things. The first time he had ever visited an enormous supermarket, he was truly astonished at their ability to create and maintain dozens of categories, with subsections inside subsections. However, Aziraphale wasn’t human. What was he supposed to do with “Salt: A World History”? Did it belong in “history and biographies”, or “culinary”, or “general non-fiction”? With a sigh, he set the book down in the steadily growing “don’t know” pile.

While his hands went through the motions of picking up a book, brushing the dust off its surface and setting it down, Aziraphale’s mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley since their last date. Well, he couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley for the last six thousand years. More specifically, he thought about improvement. About things he could do to stop feeling like their entire relationship revolved around him, and him only. That’s how it has always been, he realized. How many times, when Aziraphale was in trouble, or in a minor inconvenience, or just bored, really, did Crowley show up to fix it? It was entirely possible that Crowley was the cause of some of his problems, but that didn’t change anything. Crowley was there for him whenever he needed him. And no matter what he did, Aziraphale felt like he was not paying it back.

-What _does_ he like, actually? – Aziraphale mumbled under his breath, adding another book to an already wobbly stack.

Alcohol? Yes, but only when he wants to get drunk. Rock music? Oh, but there’s so much of it, and Aziraphale was still learning the difference between hip-hop and blues. Nice clothes? He could take him out shopping, though he suspected that, with those kinds of proportions, Crowley needed his outfits fitted to him by a tailor. That train of thought took Aziraphale to an image of some random person patting Crowley down and touching him all over to take measurements, and before he knew it, the angel was staring into the distance, a heavy volume pressed tightly in his fingers.

-Right. – He said out loud and coughed, purging a whole bunch of decisively unholy images that emerged from that association. – Something nice for Crowley. Focus.

It had just occurred to Aziraphale that, despite knowing the demon for millennia, he actually didn’t know him that well. It was rather embarrassing, really. So many conversations they’ve had, so many opportunities to explore each other’s lives – and he still only had a vague idea of what Crowley liked. Apart from him. Aziraphale knew that he liked him. But that wasn’t enough.

What could he do then? Well, he could always just ask Crowley, though that rather defeated the purpose. Or he could ask his friends… did Crowley have a lot of friends? Aziraphale was sure he did, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall ever meeting them. At least not this century. And besides, even if he did know how to reach them, it wouldn’t be a guaranteed success. If Crowley didn’t talk to him about it, would he really mention it to anyone else?

Searching his memory for general demon knowledge also didn’t seem like the right solution. Crowley tried very hard to match the image, but he definitely wasn’t a typical demon. Not that Aziraphale had met a lot of demons. He knew, however, that most of them cared very little about their appearance, avoided socializing with humans outside of their direct duties, and would rather go for a swim in a lake of holy water than hang out with – let alone date – an angel. So that was not his answer either.

What else was there? Aziraphale knew that Crowley ran a fairly popular Twitter account, but the angel’s history with social media was completely hopeless. Back in the early 2000s, he had tried to make a blog on MySpace, which resulted in his greatest disaster since that time in the sixties when he tried to get a TV for his apartment and nearly burned down his entire bookshop. And after that technology began to develop with such breathtaking speeds that he gave up on trying to catch up with it once and for all.

_What Aziraphale didn’t know is that Crowley’s twitter account consisted predominantly of cat videos, embarrassingly outdated memes, references to obscure and long-forgotten TV shows, and bizarre thoughts that popped into his head after 2 AM whenever he would crack open a bottle of scotch. What Aziraphale also didn’t know is that Crowley claimed to have invented Twitter. Over the years, he had claimed to have invented many things, including queue cutting, paid parking lots, mosquitos, terrorism, and the common cold. None of those claims were, in any shape or form, true._

Aziraphale was starting to get desperate and running out of suggestions, when his eyes focused on the title of the book that rested on top of a still unsorted pile. He paused, picked up the book and studied it carefully, as if he had never seen books before in his life. “Exotic Pets and How to Take Care of Them”, the title read. When did he ever purchase this one? Aziraphale flipped the cover and traced his finger down the list of contents. Tropical fish, ferrets, tortoises, iguanas, and, oh yes, snakes!

Suddenly Aziraphale had the most amazing idea.

*

Of course, Crowley wasn’t _actually_ a snake. He was created an angel, just like Aziraphale, and only took on the disguise of a snake when he stepped into (or, rather, crawled into) the human world for the first time. He didn’t even spend that much being a snake. However, when he assumed a more or less human form, something of that original edition stuck around and became a part of him for good.

Aziraphale saw him slip into his old habits many times. Crowley often relied on his outstanding sense of smell, liked basking in sunlight more than he cared to admit, and, on one memorable occasion, spotted a mouse out of the corner of his eye and was about to chase after it when he remembered that humans – generally speaking – weren’t known for chasing after small rodents.

Those facts – along with Crowley’s gorgeous serpent eyes – were suggesting to Aziraphale that a brush through the “snake” chapter of the book could actually yield some results. So, he abandoned the sorting for the twelfth time in a hundred years, prepared a cup of tea for himself, and sat down in his favorite armchair to read.

By the time the sun was on its way down, Aziraphale was already preoccupied with turning his apartment into a Crowley-friendly zone. The book proved to be somewhat confusing. For one thing, he got stuck at the section that went through different needs for different kinds of snakes.

-What kind of snake was he? – Aziraphale muttered to himself, flicking through the photos.

A big one, he thought. And a cute one. But he had no way of knowing whether snake-Crowley was a tree-dweller or a ground-crawler. Eventually, he decided that he would follow general instructions and not fuss too much over the details. There was always a possibility in this genius plan of his that he was being a huge idiot. But, Aziraphale thought, at least it would get a laugh out of his boyfriend.

First, he started with the living room section of his home, and moved the furniture around until he got a nice gradient of “a lot of sunlight” to “practically no sunlight”. He considered adding a lamp to the sunny section, but eventually decided that was going a tad overboard. Second, he made sure to arrange a part of the living room to create the illusion of a small, cozy space. That alone left him exhausted and out of breath, and required two additional tea breaks. Lastly, Aziraphale popped into the plant store nearby (which was about to close as well) and purchased some potted flowers. He had no idea how to care for them, but knew that Crowley could give him some advice on that.

-Now. – He stood aside, hands on hips, admiring his work. – There was one last thing…

“One last thing” required a visit to a supermarket, and thus was postponed to the next day. It included a forty-minute bus ride, a rather awkward discussion with the shopping assistant, and a momentary conundrum of “how on Earth will I get all this on the bus?”, which ended in Aziraphale paying for the delivery. By the evening of that day, the house was all set up, and he was ready to invite Crowley for their next date.

*

This time Crowley managed to beat his personal record and turned up on Aziraphale’s threshold a whole fifteen minutes and twenty-two seconds late. He sneaked in at the back, avoiding a walk through the now closed shop, and went straight for the living room.

-Oh, hello, Crowley. -Aziraphale greeted, as if surprised by the demon’s appearance.

-Hello. – He replied, already studying the room curiously. – I brought you macaroons. Or macarons. I still don’t know the difference.

Aziraphale took the small box from his hands and set it down on the nearest surface without checking.

-You’re spoiling me. – He said before placing a kiss on Crowley’s cheek. – With such an abundance of sweets, I’ll be well on my way to diabetes. – He rephrased a joke that he heard once in a bakery.

-You… - Crowley began, still looking around attentively. – You can’t get diabetes. Angel?

-Yes, my love?

-What have you done with this room?

-Ah. – Aziraphale looked the epitome of smug and proud. – Nothing much. Just a little renovation.

-What is this? – Crowley, meanwhile, seemed rather confused. – Why is that corner so sunny? It was never so sunny before. And why does it look _smaller_? Is this some new type of miracle I haven’t heard about?

-No. – Aziraphale tried to look innocent now. – Just interior design.

-And the plants. Those, - he approached one of the pots and brushed his finger across their leaves, - these are really nice bromeliads. The flowers could be more colorful though. I should have a chat with them sometime.

-Do you like it? – Aziraphale inquired, standing nearby, buzzing with anticipation.

-Broadly speaking. - Crowley responded. – The hell does it mean though? Are you asking me to move in with you or some shit like that? Cause I can’t read hints, angel, so you’ll have to tell me like it is.

Aziraphale was about to enthusiastically endorse this sudden but very appealing suggestion, when Crowley turned by ninety degrees and, for the first time, saw the last addition to the room. It was, he realized after a moment of pause, a camping tent. Just a fairly small camping tent, stuck inside the room, and somehow blending in well.

-Aziraphale. – Crowley said. – Why… do you have a camping tent inside your apartment?

-Well. – Aziraphale began with a brief sigh. – You see, I read this book and it said that, uh, individuals such as you might appreciate a certain addition to their living space. A small… construction of sorts, that is nice and cozy and good for, uh, fulfilling your needs.

-Yeah, okay, still not following. – Crowley lied, holding back a smile.

_Back in the nineties, Crowley had briefly considered getting a snake as a pet, thinking that it would be rather neat and fitting, and that he would easily get along with it. He did extensive research and talked to not one but three exotic pet experts and was ready to buy a terrarium, when he abruptly changed his mind. The snake, he realized, would need daily care, and he was out of town a lot. In the end, it was a bit too much responsibility for him. He still remembered how to care for snakes though. And he was starting to catch on to Aziraphale’s plan._

-It’s a hidey home. – Aziraphale elaborated at last.

-It’s a what? – Crowley prompted.

-A hidey home! – Aziraphale repeated, one part embarrassed, one part delighted. – Do you like it?

Crowley wanted to reply sensibly. He wanted to tell Aziraphale that he appreciated the thought very much, and that he is touched by his concern. But what came out instead was a prolonged laugh.

-Sorry. – He muttered, folded over from the laughing fit. – I just… - One last burst of laughter. – Sorry, I didn’t mean to. – He faced Aziraphale, a broad grin on his face. – This is adorable. This is, seriously, the most adorable thing you have ever done. I love it. But, Aziraphale, I’m not… I’m not _that_ much snake.

-Oh, I know. – Aziraphale pouted. – It’s just you always do so many nice things for me, and I can never keep up, and I didn’t know what you’d like, and…

-It’s cute. – Crowley repeated. – Really. The, eh, interior design thing is great. It feels much more cozy, I like it. The hidey home was a bit much though.

-It was? – The angel still seemed disappointed. – I mean, I can always return it, I still have the receipt. But since it is already here, could you at least try it?

At that point, Crowley was ready to do anything.

-Sure. – He said, and walked towards the tent. – Did you set it up by yourself?

-I read the instruction and took out all of the things, - Aziraphale explained, zipping the entrance open, - and then miracled it done about three minutes into trying to put it together by hand.

-Right. – Crowley smiled, peaking into the tent.

Inside, the floor of the tent was lined with multiple fluffy blankets and filled with pillows. It also already had a movie projector, a battery-powered lamp, and a few books. Crowley didn’t like to read, but he also didn’t mind being read to by his favorite angel.

-Well. – Crowley said, climbing inside the tent and settling on a pile of pillows. – Actually… - He waited for Aziraphale to climb in and zip up the entrance. – This is kinda nice.

-You really think so? – The angel asked.

-Yes. – He nodded. – Yeah, I do.

And, as if to prove that he really was grateful, he leaned in for a kiss. The singular kiss quickly turned into a series of kisses.

-We can make this work. – Crowley added in between the kisses. – Make it our place. Just for the two of us.

-This whole planet is just for the two of us, Crowley. – Aziraphale told him, making the demon forget how to breathe for a second. – But this can be a part of it, yes.

-We can have movie tent dates. – Crowley continued, poking the projector with a black polish covered nail. – What do you have on that thing?

-Ah, well. – The angel muttered. – Nothing, actually. It’s just, you know, the last time we were to the movies was 2002, if I’m not mistaken, and since then they have invented all those 3D things, and I get confused by all that, so… what kind of movies do you like?

-Oh, angel. – Crowley smiled. – 2002? You have so much to catch up on.

-We can make a list. – Aziraphale suggested – then, in a sudden rush of affection and inspiration, reached out and pressed his index finger to the tip of Crowley’s nose.

-Did you just… - Crowley blinked, staring blankly at the angel. – Did you just boop me on the nose?

-I might have. – He admitted.

-Was that in the book as well?

-Yes. -Aziraphale lied.

But Crowley believed him.

Neither Crowley or Aziraphale were particularly competent at their respective jobs, as was evident from most of their previous endeavors. However, Aziraphale discovered, Crowley really was an outstanding boyfriend. And, as it turned out, the angel wasn’t so bad at it either.

**Author's Note:**

> The term "hidey home" is not mine, so, as a good scientist I'm going to cite my sources: www.vetbabble.com/reptiles/snake-care/  
> (the article is also where I got the info about pet snakes)
> 
> For more Good Omens content, follow me on tumblr (bootstrapparadoxed.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm currently on an Ineffable Husbands writing spree, so if you have any suggestions or requests, do send them.
> 
> Also, I haven't posted fanfics in a while, so I would greatly appreciate comments and feedback. Honestly just comment and tell me how much you love these two. Keysmashes and incoherent strings of words are very much acceptable.


End file.
